


Identification Friend or Foe

by Selion



Series: Egregious Fraternization [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Double Penetration, Forced Exhibitionism, Half Porn/Half Plot, I counted, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Light Praise Kink, Light Size Kink, Like Almost Exactly, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sex as a Punishment, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 10:12:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12010572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selion/pseuds/Selion
Summary: The one where Quinn takes a pounding from the Sith Warrior and Pierce.***Contains immediate spoilers for late base-game Sith Warrior storyline. (Post-Voss, Pre-Corellia)***





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Reading the preceding story ‘At Peak Efficiency’ isn’t necessary to understand this. If you want to, go for it, I’ll wait. If you don’t, the pertinent info from that one is: the warrior in these stories is a big, sith pureblood juggernaut, he’s good at reading emotions, can manipulate the Force into temporary, solid objects, and he and Quinn aren’t an item but they’ve done the do before. Everything else is just in-game knowledge. 
> 
> And this is the longest sex scene I’ve ever written. Go me. Enjoy~

By all accounts it should have worked. The two war droids should have shot the Sith full of holes within seconds; a quick and merciful if somewhat messy death. But the droids hadn’t won. They were strewn about Quinn’s feet, reduced to sparking wrecks; chunks of durasteel and melted electronics littered the floor emitting a stench of ozone and burning plastics. He had gone into this mission from Lord Baras knowing that if his calculations weren’t flawless it would spell the end for him. Either struck down by Amon for the betrayal, or by Baras for the failure.

He hadn’t wanted to do this. Not only for the fact that Quinn admired Lord Amon’s immense physical power, or that Amon had his lips to enough ears that it wouldn’t be in error to call him influential, or that he was capable of making immense strides for the Empire in his own strange way, but because he was one of the very few people Quinn would actually want to call a friend. That made this whole thing that much more distasteful. But the regret hadn’t made him hold back in any way. He had personally programmed and modified the two droids, utilizing every bit of combat data he’d gleaned from observing Lord Amon’s fighting skills. And he’d also been there himself to back them up, dodging and sprinting and firing streams of bolts right alongside theirs.

And it still hadn’t been enough. Here he stood, panting open-mouthed over the smoking remains of his well-tuned droids, hair plastered wetly to his forehead, and right hand still barely clinging to the grip of his blaster. It was over, and all he could feel was that cold, hollow, absolutely wretched feeling when you’ve done something wrong and all that’s left is for the consequences to come home.

He was dead.

He knew it with complete certainty as Amon finally lifted his head and opened his eyes on Quinn, unerringly locating him without the need to search.

At first he’d thought it strange that Amon would remain kneeling in front of him after the droids had been dispatched, pressing a large hand to his side where he’d received his only injury from them and letting his attention drift from Quinn as he caught his breath. But as that golden gaze fell upon him again, he realized with a chill that he had never truly been a threat to the Sith. The droids had been an annoyance, and Quinn himself a mere distraction. At no point had he had a chance against the Emperor’s Wrath, and as the thought settled, it came with some small measure of comfort to know that he was wholly outmatched and everything was completely out of his hands. This gamble was lost, and all that was left was to wait. But that couldn’t stop the involuntary shudder that ran through him as Amon stood and drew himself up to his full, terrifying height and simply watched him from across the deck.

Lord Amon was friendly to nearly everyone he met; smiled and laughed frequently; preferred listening and asking over talking; kept track of his strange, mismatched crew’s favorite drinks and equipment preferences. Considerate, in a word. He was quiet and well-read and liked collecting exotic flowers, of all things. Which was why it was so easy, at times, to forget that beneath all of that he was a brutal and efficient killer with a taste for scaring the daylights out of his enemies. And now the beam of that insane energy had turned onto him, and it was incredibly difficult to not just re-cloak, turn, and try to run. He might have if he’d thought it would do any good.

The Sith took a step toward him, his boots loud on the polished metal floor. A dreamy sort of paralysis fell over him; Quinn relaxed his body, dropped his arms fully to his side, and tilted his head back in a subtle display of his throat. Trying to appear as defenseless as possible. He prayed his death wouldn’t be too horribly painful, but wasn’t really expecting any kind of mercy after what he’d done. Tried to do.

Amon spoke a single, soft word as he stalked across the room to grab him by the front of his jacket. 

“Quinn.” 

He could feel every ounce of anger and disappointment in that one utterance. Amon twitched a finger to the side and Quinn felt his blaster rip out of his hand and clatter across the floor.

“You’re in an  _ awful _ lot of trouble,” Amon growled as his claws twisted through Quinn’s clothes and scraped across his chest in burning lines. The Sith was immensely bigger than he was and he was using his size to his full advantage right now; standing close enough for Quinn to smell the fragrant oils in his long hair and to see the ooze of dark blood under the cracked part of his chest armor. That one, single place where one of the droid’s bolts had punched through his shield. He craned down over Quinn, practically enveloping him as he roughly jerked him even closer. Quinn’s heart jolted and he took a quick breath, both drowning in fear and intensely aware of how his body was being drawn up against the Sith’s.

“Do you remember what I said to you after you knocked out Pierce?” Amon jerked his head backwards to the large lump of unconscious man still lying on the floor far behind them.

Quinn nodded after a brief pause. 

“Why don’t you remind me what it was?”

Quinn’s eyes closed to briefly shut out the baleful gaze that was boring into him. He could recall it, just not with that look focused on him. “You said, ‘You’d better hope your calculations are perfect, Captain. Because if these things don’t kill me, I’m going to rip you apart.’” By the time he finished speaking, his voice was a horrified whisper.

“That’s exactly right, good memory.” 

And now he was being lifted into the air, a firm, invisible pressure around his neck and chest keeping him suspended at eye-level to Amon with the tips of his boots dangling a little more than a foot off the ground. Another rush of pointless adrenaline and fear washed through him as he anticipated what being dismembered by a Sith might feel like. How many limbs he could lose before he would pass out from shock and blood-loss. He swallowed. Or perhaps Amon would keep his severed veins and arteries pinched closed so he’d be alive and conscious far past when he should be. Nearly panicking, and wasn’t that a rare occurrence, he tried to move against the Force restraints and found he couldn’t. Couldn’t do much of anything besides hang there and stare wide-eyed at the yellow eyes and sharp, white teeth in front of his face.

“Maybe I should. Or maybe I should just tear out an eye so you can’t shoot right anymore. Crush these talented hands so you can never backstab anyone again. Rip your jaw out so you won’t even have that handsome face to fall back on.” Amon reached out and ran his fingertips along Quinn’s cheek, just as gentle as if he were about to kiss him instead of maim him.

“Please,” Quinn panted. It was ugly but he couldn’t keep it from spilling out. “Please don’t.”

Amon ignored him. “Then I could send you back to your master. Let Baras decide what he wants to do with you when you’re mangled and useless and defeated.” His eyes darkened and his lips lifted in an angry snarl. The pressure surrounding Quinn’s torso doubled down into a rib-cracking clench and he screamed out, expelling his breath and then unable to draw it back in. His head swam and pulsed with the blood trapped there and his vision began fading away in big black swathes. There was a dizzy moment to think that, considering every tool in Amon’s arsenal, this might not be such a bad way to go before everything snapped back and he dropped down to the floor. He landed awkwardly on one foot, almost falling but for Amon grabbing him around the waist and shoulder; their bodies pressed together in some odd parody of a pair of slowdancers.

One clawed hand lifted up and Quinn flinched away as it moved toward his face, thinking Amon meant to fulfill his threat of gouging out his eye, but it settled softly against his forehead instead. The fingers drew up, brushing his damp hair back away from his face and then slid down his cheek to his neck where they briefly rubbed across the delicate skin over his carotid artery. Quinn’s breathing hitched, but the motion didn’t seem meant to hurt him. Not yet anyway. What was he waiting for? Was he just going to keep scaring him until he dropped dead of a coronary?

“This is unbearably cliché, but I have to ask. Why?” Amon asked. The hand released him with a light shove and Quinn took a few steps back, automatically probing over his sternum and ribs to feel around for anything broken or fractured. A funny habit to indulge now. “Why would you choose to side with Baras?”

Ah.  _ ‘Why?’ _ might be cliché, but it was for a reason: it was a good question, and one he felt Amon deserved an answer to. Although for this situation, Quinn felt his why was incredibly lackluster. He didn’t have a good reason for betraying a Sith Lord he liked at the command of one that he didn’t. It may have made sense, but it wasn’t good.

“I felt I had to,” Quinn said quietly. “I’ve been under Lord Baras’s command for a very long time and he’s given me everything I have.” A pause. “Even my position here with you was more his decision than yours or mine. He has had complete control of my military career for years… without him, I would be nothing. No one else cared in all that time.” 

Within those years he hadn’t been advanced hardly at all and hadn’t been able to do anything that really, truly mattered, but the alternative had seemed far, far worse. An easy if boring stationing on Balmorra was preferable to an unfair court-martial led by Broysc or whoever he could bully into doing it for him. If that had been allowed to happen he would have likely ended up completely stripped of any sort of rank and permanently exiled to an abhorrent planet like Exigar or Geonosis. Living out the rest of his days as some inconsequent physician for whatever village might take him in. Quinn frowned at the grey flooring between them.

“...And if I defied him now, with all that I owe him, powerful as he is, he would either ruin me or kill me as easily as thinking. I had to take my chances with this, even if I was opposed to it.”

“Mmm. I can appreciate that.”

Quinn’s eyes snapped up to Lord Amon’s, wondering what on Kaas that meant.

“You aren’t giving yourself enough credit again, Quinn. But yes, you’re right, he does have considerably more political pull than I do. He won’t though, not for long.” Amon turned his face away and unhooked his saber hilt from his belt, bouncing it in his palm as he stared off. And then he slowly clenched his fist around it. “I’m going to kill him, Quinn. I’m going to bury my saber into that ridiculous mask he wears and either destroy or take everything he has for myself.” 

On the word “kill”, he’d thumbed the button to ignite the blade and the harsh yellow glow fell over both of them, beating out the red aura from the room’s lights. Quinn had asked about it once, curious if the color of a lightsaber crystal signified anything about the user. Amon, a much happier version of him, had laughed and winked at the time, saying that he was sure it did to most people, but for him, he just liked yellow because it brought out his eyes. It did now, bringing the mellow gold shine of them up to a ferocious glitter. Quinn felt lost in them, unable to look away, even with the deadly heat of the ignited saber mere feet away from him.

Amon turned his gaze back from his blade to refocus on Quinn. The look was smoldering with rage and possessiveness and it sent an uncomfortable chill down Quinn’s back. His breath came in shallow and quick as he waited for the arm to rise, the body to lunge, and the beam of light to slice down and neatly bisect him.

And then Amon smiled. A cynical ghost of the cheerful, carefree smile he usually had. “And that includes you, Captain. Lucky for you, I have a little bit better appreciation for my associates than Baras does. I don’t throw away useful people on some half-baked assassination plot or paranoid fantasy at the first chance I get. I’m going to transform the Empire and  _ you… _ are going to come with me.” 

The relief that flooded through Quinn was nearly embarrassing in how overwhelming it was. But who wouldn’t feel this way? Certain death after likely torture turning around to what sounded like, if not actual forgiveness, at least a chance at  _ something.  _ Some way to maybe earn his way back. And, gods, that feeling of being  _ wanted. _ His throat clicked.

_ “If,  _ Quinn.” The slight smile was gone now.

Quinn raised his eyebrows, barely breathing.

“If nothing like this ever happens again. I believe in second chances, but that’s my limit.” He lowered his saber and held it at his side. “I  _ also _ believe in choice. So, tell me: are you going to come back my side or would you rather return to Baras? I won’t stop you if you truly want to leave. But if you go now, you aren’t coming back. And you can believe me when I say I’m going to do my utmost to ruin the little empire Baras has built up and everything in it.” 

Trepidation and remorse and fear and some kind of blind, screaming elation were twisting through his chest and head, but Quinn managed his voice into something calm and collected. “I will stay. It’s far more than I deserve, my lord, thank you. And if it’s worth anything, I entirely regret doing this to you.” He hoped he sounded sincere. He was.

Amon looked like he was about to speak, but Quinn’s holocommunicator chose that moment to trill out its incoming call tone. At a gesture from Amon, he pulled the device from his ripped coat and thumbed through the display, reading the string of digits that appeared.

“It’s Baras,” he said.

The saber snapped off and Amon’s face grew even more serious than it had been. “Well, here’s where it begins, Quinn. How are you going to spin this to my advantage?”

Quinn’s mind raced as he went through several different scenarios and finally settled on one that Baras might be likely to accept, if only because he wanted it to be true so badly. Now that he’d heard Lord Amon’s words and had a few moments to think it over… this entire situation seemed like a set-up. Not only for Amon, for him as well. A lone officer and two war droids against a full-fledged Sith Lord with a powerful command of the Force could only come out one way, now that he truly thought about it without Baras’s words of encouragement and bravado ringing in his head. 

And even so, the droids hadn’t performed  _ nearly _ as well as they should have. The initial data given to him by Baras had been faulty, he’d been too distracted to look into it further, and the result had been catastrophic failure. Anger flared within him at the knowledge, and disgust at himself for being so thoroughly duped. There had definitely been a pattern of Baras expending his agents like this and it had been happening with a much higher frequency of late. He’d somehow thought himself immune to it, perhaps due to just how long they had worked together and his exemplary performance on all things required. More fool him.

“I will appear to be severely injured and tell him it was a close thing but his plan was successful, that you’ve been killed and I am dying. This may possibly give us some breathing room in the future, or even the element of surprise if you’d like to go on the offensive. He may be a little wary but I believe I can be convincing enough.”

Amon nodded. “Do it,” he said, and quickly backed away out of the holo’s pickup range, striding over to where Lieutenant Pierce lay in a heap. Probably to begin coaxing him back to consciousness.

It made him sick to address Baras as ‘my lord’ now, but he did it anyway for consistency’s sake. As he suspected, Baras seemed surprised to see Quinn alive at all though he hid it well. Quinn kept catching minor things he would say or not say that revealed how he hadn’t planned on needing to bother with him again. He spun his story to Baras; holding his hand over what he hoped looked like a mortal wound and, for once, thankful for the low-resolution projection generated by the holo. He breathed long and ragged as he told Baras how he’d poisoned Amon and then caught him completely off-guard with the droids but had gotten a saber through the gut in the end. He allowed a small measure of offense to seep through when Baras questioned if he was sure Amon was dead or not, somewhat insulted at the thought that as a field medic he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between a corpse and a live body. The call ended with a smug and rote-sounding you’ve-done-your-duty-for-the-Empire farewell from Baras. It left a sour feeling in Quinn’s stomach.

“Nice work.” Amon was lurking to his side, only now approaching as the holo flickered off. Pierce seemed to be awake now, sitting leaned against the wall with his head between his knees and his eyes scrunched shut. 

Quinn locked and pocketed his holo and pulled at his jacket, still trying and failing to straighten the tattered cloth out. “Thank you, my lord.”

The Sith stood in front of him again, cutting off his view of Pierce now angrily drinking a bottle of something. One of his hands gripped Quinn by the chin, forcing him to look up. Even if his face didn’t show it, Amon was still incredibly angry. Quinn could feel it in his grasp, and though he wasn’t Force sensitive at all, could still feel the oppressive cloud of fury hanging around him. Not only that, but the feeling of possessiveness was back in full effect. Everything in his posture shouted ‘You are  _ mine’, _ and Quinn had to hold back a shiver. 

“Alright, Captain. This is what’s going to happen. The three of us are going back to the ship, and you are going to to issue a very personal apology to myself and Lieutenant Pierce. Do you understand me?” As he asked, his thumb brushed over Quinn’s lower lip.

It wasn’t something that could be easily misinterpreted. He nodded, unable to stop his tongue from nervously darting out to run over where he’d been touched. “Perfectly, my lord.”

“Good. You always were quick, Quinn.” Amon leaned down and kissed Quinn’s mouth, licking over where Quinn’s tongue had dampened it. The aura of dread and the feeling of Amon’s lips on his forced a low moan out and he had to refrain from grasping the black breastplate in front of him for balance. He felt dizzy and deeply uneasy, but the feeling of gratefulness won out over everything else. There was a chance still, to prove himself back onto the crew he’d nearly thrown away. 

Amon drew back, eyes slanted down at him. “If you do well, it’ll be a good start. Think of it as both a punishment and a team-building exercise. See you aboard, Captain.”

And then he slipped into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

As he woke, it felt like his senses were slowly coming back online from a hard shutdown. The familiar hum of the  _ Fury’s _ engine core was first, quickly followed by the grating slur of Pierce’s voice somewhere nearby. Then the dull, salt smell of kolto and the sharp bite of antiseptic layered over the steel and electronics smell of the ship’s interior. The feel of what he assumed was his own bed in his quarters under him. He relaxed into it, letting his eyes stay shut as he took a quick mental inventory of what had happened and just listening for a moment. If there was any advantage of being rendered unconscious by the Force it was that it didn’t have the accompanying disorientation and splitting headache that came with more conventional means.

“—and pardon me for saying so, m’lord, but this… master apprentice bollocks seems pretty damned stupid to me as well.” That would be Pierce. Gravelly timbre, funny way of pronouncing his R’s, and a crude accent that had always seemed more fitting coming from a Mandalorian than an Imperial officer.

“How’s that?” And Amon, somewhere on the other side of the room. A smoother, somewhat more cultured sound, could easily have been one of the HoloNet’s lead newscasters if he hadn’t been born into the vicious life of a Force user.

“The whole killing your protégés when they get too good thing. Counter-productive. I don’t know how anything gets done, honestly. Sounds like too much watching your own arse from all sides.”

“Ah, I see. This situation  _ is _ a bit unusual. Normally, it’s the apprentice who makes a move against the master. Perhaps the old man thought I was taking too long? Or maybe he just got tired of my roguish charms and good looks.”

A chuckle and a long pause. It sounded like Pierce was chewing on something.

“Bit of a loony, isn’t he?”

“Honestly, most Sith Lords are.”

A loud laugh. “Present company excluded? Or…”

Amon huffed and made an amused, non-committal sound. “I’m trying my best to be one of the exceptions to that rule. But you’re right, the whole thing is a little stupid, trying to destroy your teacher or student as it goes. ...Quinn, if you’re up you don’t have to keep your eyes closed,” Amon said, his tone dry.

He reluctantly opened them and let the lights and grey ceiling of his quarters come into focus. Lord Amon was leaning against the far wall with his arms folded over his chest and the lieutenant was sitting at Quinn’s desk, feet propped up over the edge and very close to toppling a neat stack of datapads and styluses. At any other time he’d tell Pierce to get his boots off the furniture immediately, but could see this wasn’t the time to make petty demands. Quinn glanced down at himself and saw that his own boots had been removed and his torn jacket had been thoughtfully replaced with a clean, intact one. His blaster, knife, holocom, and scanner had all been piled on the side of the desk not in danger of being crushed by Pierce.

“Ahhh, so the traitor’s awake.” Pierce’s arms were propped behind his head and he looked supremely comfortable lounging in Quinn’s seat. He was still in most of his armor and Quinn was impressed the chair’s thin legs hadn’t snapped under all the additional weight.

“Be nice, Lieutenant,” Amon chided gently.

“I’ve just never seen anything like this. He tried to kill you, m’lord, but you’re still letting him just prance right back and come along wiv us.” He snorted and picked up one of Quinn’s datapads just to carelessly toss it back down on the table with a loud clack. “If it were up to me, I’d’ve killed him and sent the pieces back to Baras with a nice card. Says ‘You left your trash at our place last you visited, thought we’d do you a solid and return it. Cheers.’”

Quinn sat up and swung his legs over the bed, smoothing down his bedraggled hair and deciding against making any kind of retort to Pierce. He didn’t like the brutish lieutenant at the best of times, but he knew what he’d done to him and Amon had completely violated whatever kind of fragile working relationship they’d built up. So he would tolerate the taunts and insults, for now. It was just going to be an endeavor to keep his tongue in check and be civil.

Amon was trying to keep a smile off his face as he answered Pierce. “He had his reasons for doing what he did. And I feel both that they’re legitimate and that it won’t become an issue ever again. But this is the only chance he gets to prove how sorry he is.” And that definitely sounded like a suggestion to get moving

Pierce just sighed. “As you say, m’lord.”

Quinn rose to his feet and right away felt a shift in the dynamic of the room. The two others subtly turned toward him, the tenseness in them all rising a few degrees. Pierce continued taking minor digs at him, but Quinn could see how his eyes were following his every motion as he straightened his sleeves and moved around the edge of the bed. Anxiety rolled over him as he came to a halt in front of Pierce. It wasn’t what he was about to do, not the act itself anyway, that bothered him. Things of this nature weren’t terribly uncommon in military life, though they were, by necessity, kept very well hidden. He’d done favors for superior officers before and had his own at other times.

Pierce’s feet came off his desk and settled on the floor, the big thighs spread in what was supposed to look like a relaxed pose, instead just coming off as anticipatory. 

It was just another task. Usually done out of loneliness or simple physical need or to get more favorable schedules or even promotions. It was the way it was being framed now that was sending fear and nerves through him in short, buzzing waves. A punishment. A performance. And the fact that it was  _ Pierce _ was especially galling. A subordinate for one thing, and just how utterly irritating and unprofessional he would be about it for another.

“You were serious, huh?” Pierce asked Amon, surprise evident.

“He’s serious,” Quinn answered for him. He could hear Amon hum in agreement or approval behind him. Pierce’s eyes finally found his and stayed there, no longer sliding back to Amon for reassurances or to talk around him. “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?” Quinn asked, hands clasped at his back and waiting stiffly in parade rest.

Pierce’s impassive expression slowly morphed into an amused leer. “I don’t warrant any romancing, eh? Down to business. Well.” He waved a hand at his lap and slightly widened his stance. “Wouldn’t mind seeing your mouth full of something other than protocol reminders and unwanted tactical advice.”

A blowjob? Not overly creative… simple tastes for a simple man he supposed. But beyond that, he knew what else Pierce wanted; he’d hinted at it anyway. To break whatever resistance Quinn had, crack the cool exterior and see him react in disgust or shame. He let an appropriate amount of anger and humiliation onto his face as he knelt in front of the big man and tentatively placed his hands over the muscles of his thighs. It was definitely going to be a blow to his pride to let Pierce see him squirm, but he could play up the discomfort if his lord wanted Pierce to really be satisfied with this. It wouldn’t be too much of a stretch, honestly.

Pierce breathed out, long and low as Quinn ran his hands up his legs and loosened his belt. Quinn glanced up, catching Pierce’s eye and enjoying the incredulity on his face before unfastening the catch on his pants and drawing them down a little over his hips.

“I find it odd that you’d even go for this.” Perfect mix of disdain and provocation as he liberated Pierce’s cock from his undergarments; his fingertips tracing up the already very hard and velvet smooth shaft, sliding one over where the tip was already slick.

“I just couldn’t pass up the chance to see you looking so pathetic, Captain,” Pierce said after a very brief pause. He wrapped his larger hand around Quinn’s own, stilling the slow, testing strokes he was making. “Now cut the chatter and get to work.”

Through the back of his hand he could feel just how blazing hot Pierce’s skin was, and the barely-there tremble of his fingers. He was undeniably excited by this, and that raised a few small questions he’d have to wonder about later. But without any further objections, besides letting an offended sneer cross his face, he snugged up closer to Pierce’s body and sank his open mouth down over his cock. At least he didn’t have to look at Pierce while he did this. Ugh. Unless he asked.

Pierce jerked and let his hands fall heavily onto Quinn’s shoulders; they felt both like a cage and oddly reassuring. “Fuck, Quinn,” he moaned as Quinn closed down around him, lips and tongue creating a tight, hot tunnel for him to push up in to. The lieutenant’s clothes smelled like Skevon residue and spent energy cells, and as he pressed down nearer to his waist, the skin smelled of clean sweat laced with a chemical undercurrent of stimulants. He’d never been so close to Pierce to really catch his scent like this, and he breathed in against him as he sank all the way down. It wasn’t so awful.

He felt a strange urge to do a good job, to make Pierce’s composure melt away and he sucked harder, wrapping his fingers around the base of his dick and squeezing. His tongue played over Pierce’s slit and his lips came down to gently tease over the tip. The lieutenant’s head fell back and he closed his eyes as he exhaled a long, rushing breath.

“I know I’ve said this before, Lord Amon,” Pierce mumbled to the ceiling. “But you are by far my favorite CO.”

Amon chuckled from where he was still leaning against the wall, quietly watching Quinn’s face get slowly and thoroughly fucked. “Enjoy this while it lasts, I don’t know if we’ll be able to convince him of a repeat.”

“Oh, I am.” Pierce slid a thumb over the ridge of Quinn’s cheekbone, over that one oddity on his otherwise unremarkable face. Quinn snarled at the familiarity of it; as well as he could with his tongue fully extended and purposefully dragging up Pierce’s cock from bottom to tip. The snarl was still a weak effort, and he wondered if Pierce could see that he was, somewhat against his will, starting to lose himself in the sensations of what he was doing. 

Hell. There was just something about big men. Thick fingers and cocks to perfectly stretch and fill. Long, muscled limbs ideal for holding and restraining and taking. Quinn realized he was kneading the large muscles of Pierce’s thigh and slowly swaying his own hips forward and back. He couldn’t figure out when that had started but it was probably too late to stop. And though he’d made it sound like he wasn’t, he knew Amon could feel just how much he was enjoying this. If Pierce made the effort to lean up and look down, he’d probably have a pretty good idea as well. Quinn hoped he wouldn’t; he didn’t feel like explaining why sucking off a willful lieutenant was making him so frantically aroused.

Pierce gave up on trying to touch his face, his hand instead sliding over to cover the back of his head, fingers impudently stroking through the short hairs on his neck. He grunted and twisted away from the touch, but secretly loved the way Pierce grabbed him again with both hands and forced him back. He let himself choke a little, hacking and throat convulsing and letting saliva seep out to puddle in Pierce’s thatch of deep red hair.

Pierce just laughed and dug his fingers deeper into the (frustratingly) messy shag of Quinn’s hair and pulled him back down after giving him a bare moment to catch his breath. The big hands guided him down and the forceful roll of his hips drove his cock up over Quinn’s lips and tongue. “Not too much for you, is it? I know it’s a lot, but you’re doing so well.” Pierce panted. 

Oh, gods. That sent a hot spike of arousal through his gut and he tensed, fingers digging a little deeper into thigh and abdomen.

Pierce’s thrusts were coming in harder and faster and started to lose their careful rhythm. Quinn’s only answer was to relax his throat and let Pierce fully push in a few suffocating times before he pulled Quinn’s head up and off him by the back of his hair. The one hand clenched down, yanking little needles of pain into his scalp and the other slicked over his own cock, facilitated by Quinn’s saliva.

“Open,” he said, guttural and eyes half-closed. 

And this he  _ had _ been expecting. His mouth hung slack, tongue out, eyes furious and brows wrinkled down like he hated everything about this. Pierce’s breathing came up to a crescendo and his hips snapped forward as his come fell over Quinn’s face. Some landed in his hair, some painted bitter stripes over his tongue, and some dripped down over his lips and chin to fall onto his coat. He hoped Pierce took his eyes closing and the needy sound he let out as something other than what they meant.

Pierce collapsed back into the desk chair, releasing his grip on Quinn’s hair and not bothering to tuck himself away. Just sitting and looking at the fluid slowly dripping down his cheeks, grinning when Quinn sat back on his heels and brought a hand up to start expressionlessly wiping the worst of it away and spitting out what had fallen in his mouth. Quinn’s voice wavered when he spoke, “I hope that was satisfactory.”

“I’d give my next... two year’s salary for a recording of that,” Pierce answered, heaving a sigh and looking wistful, “But I already asked and m’lord says he doesn’t think blackmail promotes team solidarity. So yeah, outside that I’d say I’m fairly satisfied.”

A small disturbance of the air pushed at Quinn’s back and he heard Amon settle down on his knees behind him. One heavy arm draped around his shoulders and the hand trailed over his chest, Amon’s face turning inward to press his lips into the skin under Quinn’s ear. It felt like a small sign of approval and Quinn’s fingers curled in against his palm.

Pierce huffed a laugh and rubbed his hand on the opposite sleeve. “If this is what I get in return, maybe I should let you knock me out more often.”

Amon’s lips curved up in a smile and Quinn felt him tilt his head up to look at Pierce, though his mouth didn’t move away from its position on his neck. This had to make an odd tableau, the two of them sitting at Pierce’s booted feet, a pair of worshipers. “You’re welcome to stay for the rest if you’d like, Lieutenant. But don’t feel obligated, this might not be pretty.” Amon’s teeth came down in a hard bite and Quinn flinched, moaning at the pain and the idea of Pierce watching them. Gods, this was certainly a day for discoveries.

One of Pierce’s arms moved to hook over the back of the chair he was sitting in, and he looked down at the both of them, raising his eyebrows at the sound coming from Quinn. “Never really cared much for ‘pretty’, m’lord. Though I think I might be starting to see the appeal.” His eyes moved to Quinn as he said that last. Quinn just looked back at him impassively, knowing it wasn’t over and determined not to look away. “Suppose I wouldn’t mind taking the rest of my break right here.”

Hands wrapped around Quinn and gently pulled him to his feet. He was flushed and overhot and knew Pierce could easily see what kind of state he was in, but a lot of the embarrassment had left. The needs of his body had taken over what his mind cared about, especially something as worthless as future social interactions with Pierce. 

Amon had foregone his usual bangles and ornamentation and, unlike Pierce, had removed his cortosis armor in favor of a loose tunic over leggings. So when he pressed up against Quinn’s back, he could feel every heavy curve of muscle and the jut of his erection where it lay right above the cleft of his ass. Quinn arched back, pressing himself a little tighter to the huge body behind him and feeling another thrill of anticipation when Amon started unsnapping his jacket. Also feeling a little on display as the jacket slid off and his thin shirt started rising over his hips and up his stomach. 

“Did you want anything else from our captain? This is the time to ask.”

Vague interest was already on Pierce’s face and as Amon asked his question it solidified into something a little more eager.

“If it’s alright with you, Quinn,” Amon added. It sounded like a threat; the illusion of choice when there really wasn’t one at all. Quinn’s eyes closed as his pants and underthings slid down his legs and Amon’s powerful, clawed fist closed over him, more suited to grasping his saber and tearing out throats than this. A few teasing strokes and his nerves were on fire all over again.

“Of course, my lord.” Breathless and untethered. He didn’t know what he was falling into here, but like before, it was a bit of a relief that everything was completely out of his hands. 

“You’re gonna fuck him, right? Lemme watch him up close and personal while he loses it.”

Damn. Leave it to Pierce to find a way to cut right to it and make this far more intimate than it should be. But this was a punishment; this was what they were all here for. He found it hard to be too disturbed anyway with Amon’s tongue on his neck and hand sliding over the fine hair of his thigh.

“Yep, gonna fuck him.” Amon said with what sounded like a large grin, gently mimicking Pierce’s rougher accent. “Might as well get comfortable then, if you’re staying, hm?”

The bed was small, but they found a way to fit together. Pierce stretched out and leaning back against the wall, Quinn on hands and knees above him, their faces entirely too close for his liking, and Amon kneeling behind Quinn, long legs dangling off the edge. Pierce had stripped out of his armor and then shrugged and peeled the rest of his clothes off. And there he was, laid out right below him, smirking up at every little flinch and flicker that passed over Quinn’s face. 

Amon grasped his hips and settled his length in between the raised and spread cheeks of Quinn’s ass. At some point he’d coated himself with something oily and Quinn could feel it now, slicking where they were touching and dripping down the back of his legs. Quinn gasped at the warm glide over his hole and concluded that he was not going to get out of this with any of his dignity intact. He’d never tried to fool himself about that, but even this simple act was driving him insane. Pierce absently palmed over himself and reached out with the other hand to stroke down Quinn’s leg, curling it around the back of his knee and giving a light tug, threatening to overbalance him. But the motions behind him felt too good to protest, and he breathed out a low breath and tangled his hands in the sheets.

“Pierce, help me out, would you?”

That interested look again. “Hm?”

“Hold Quinn still for me?” A pause and another long, delicious drag against him. Quinn shuddered. “He’s got a habit of squirming around during this part.”

Pierce glanced up over Quinn’s shoulder, eyebrows raised. “A _ habit?” _ He looked back down at Quinn and the flush of red creeping over his collarbones and up his neck. “You and— hm. Guess that makes sense.” Quinn groaned and dropped his head down and away from Pierce’s gaze. Amon didn’t need Pierce’s help at all. The two of them were going to destroy him utterly. 

He only got a moment’s reprieve before both of Pierce’s hands were on him and tipping his face back up. One pet over his hair and ran down to cup his shoulder to keep him from lunging forward and the other covered the lower part of his face. Pierce squeezed him lightly. “Nowhere to go.”

And this was familiar. Amon spread him open, tilting his hips up and a long, thin object slid into him. It felt simultaneously there and not there, and knew it was Amon using his strange Sith powers again. And then it widened and the sliding pressure made him surge forward the few inches he was allowed, dick twitching and mouth falling open behind Pierce’s hand in a whining groan. Everything was heat and tingling nerves and he snaked out his tongue to curl it around one of Pierce’s broad fingers and suck it back into his mouth. It jumped against his tongue before relaxing and pressing in deeper.

“Shit. You dirty little bastard.”

Amon just laughed behind him, a dark chuckle, and continued stretching him open as he slid his hands down Quinn’s ribs and the meager curve of his hips. Whispered into his back about how good he looked and how well he was taking it. 

It felt like it took ages for Amon to be happy with how open he was, each press and twisting shift accompanied by a soft gasp from Quinn, each one seen and heard by the man under him. Pierce had gradually lost the amusement on his face, his eyes dark and mouth fallen slightly open as he ran his hands over Quinn’s thin chest, occasionally tweaking a nipple or rubbing his fingers lightly over his collarbones and the wiry muscles of his arms. No more complaints or moues from Quinn; the act had been abandoned.

Ages, but Amon finally seemed satisfied, and he felt the wet head of a cock gently press against him where he’s been steadily loosened and tease around the outside. Amon leaned down and murmured, “Are you ready?” But he didn’t wait for a response, simply held his hips and moved forward to fill him with his slick, throbbing length; no resistance and far deeper than his conjured toy had reached. Quinn completely lost control of his shaking arms and collapsed forward onto Pierce with a choked sob. Ass in the air, hands clenched onto Pierce’s warm shoulders, and face buried in his neck. 

Amon rocked against him in a long, gentle rhythm, hard thighs pressing up into the backs of Quinn’s, sticky with sweat and trembling at the sensory overload of the cock gliding in and out of his ass and the four big hands all over him.

Quinn was taking everything, and his hands twitched with the need to give. The need to do  _ something; _ some outlet for all the energy and focus he had pent up. He knew he was going to regret this later. He lifted his head up, chest to chest with Pierce where he could feel both their heartbeats slamming in a syncopated rhythm, pressed his hands to the sides of Pierce’s stocky neck and fell against his mouth. The thought of regret was reaffirmed when Pierce mumbled a quiet ‘What the fuck?’ against him, but was tossed aside just as quickly when Pierce opened his mouth and slid his tongue over Quinn’s teeth and gently cradled the back of his head in his hands.

He could feel it this time, rather than hear it. Amon snickering behind him as he slowed his strokes to keep from crushing him against Pierce’s face. Quinn dearly wanted to tell him to shut up. 

Amon bent over his back and kissed his way up Quinn’s spine, the soft presses and small licks against his damp skin tingling against him and burrowing deep. When he made it up to his shoulders, he lay the side of his face lazily against Quinn, still rolling into him with those long, agonizing thrusts.

“You want a turn on him?”

Pierce broke away, mild surprise on his scarred face and Quinn had a quick moment to think  _ What did you think you were staying for, you oaf? _ as Amon’s breaths washed over his back.

“My lord?” Pierce asked.

The lips turned into teeth against his skin; a sharp smile and a sharper pinch that made Quinn arch his back in protest and clench the muscles of his stomach.

“Go on. Might be good for you.”

Quinn looked down and Pierce’s eyes were already on his, voice heavy with want. “Alright, Captain?”

And then it was Quinn’s turn to be mildly surprised. Team-building exercise indeed. Maybe Amon did know what he was doing. 

“Of course.”

Amon rocked into him a few final times before squeezing his hip and slowly pulling out, the drag of it making Quinn hiss through his teeth. The switch was quick, Amon slicking more lube over his well-used hole and reaching under him to work some over Pierce.

“Go on,” Amon said again, sounding a little on edge himself.

Quinn straightened up, arching his back and twisting before walking forward a little to stop over Pierce. He leaned his forearms over Pierce’s shoulders and bent in, cock heavy and wet and ass sticking out like a whore... and wasn’t that what he was right now? Just trading his body for goodwill instead of credits or spice. Though much as he’d wanted to avoid it, this had long since changed from chilly indifference to reluctant enthusiasm. That cautious question from Pierce had him burning with some unknown feeling; he wasn’t sure if he liked it or not. And the way Amon was plying them together, knowing what would force out the reaction he wanted. It was actually fairly impressive. 

“Don’t go easy on me, Lieutenant,” Quinn whispered against Pierce’s temple.

Pierce glanced up at him, eyes shadowed under his thick brows. The corner of his mouth tipped up in a faint smirk. “I would never,” he said, one hand wrapped around his side and the other guiding his dick up into Quinn until they locked together. They both groaned. The stretch was a little greater, but Amon had worked him open enough that everything was nice and smooth; Pierce whispering  _ ‘Fuck’ _ as he moved Quinn’s body over him. It was nice to let someone else control him, hold him still at the right height and just use him like this. He ran his hands over the thickly muscled arms supporting him, grasping tight and loving the sleek shift of them.

Amon moved up against him again, cock sticky on his leg and reached around him and Pierce’s arm to curl around his mostly-neglected dick. Quinn shuddered and rolled his hips forward into the touch, feeling nearly overwhelmed again. He slipped into a feeling of half bliss and half suspense as Pierce filled him over and over again with the slide of Amon’s hot fist and rolling hips matching the lieutenant’s rhythm. 

Lips fell over his neck and pulled at his ear. “It’s good to see you two playing together so well for once.” 

The words vibrated into his skin and Pierce laughed. Quinn didn’t want to answer, his body was shaking and the steady sliding in and over him felt incredible, winding him up into an almost frantic state. Rational thought deserted him, left him crushed between two storms, mountains, earthquakes. Fuck, he needed more. 

“I want both of you. At once.” He squeezed his eyes shut. The thought had never crossed his mind before now, but with Pierce slowly impaling him and Amon grinding into his back, nearly already there it sounded like the most perfect thing.

Yet there was another quick slip of thought, an addition to earlier concerns; not too worried about Amon, but wondering how he would ever get anything done with the lieutenant anymore. Would Quinn stand there at the briefing room table, handing out assignments and have to deal with Pierce just staring at him? Eyes boring into him with the knowledge that Quinn had wanted him and the Sith to fuck him at the same time? Had outright  _ asked _ for it? Damn it. He’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

Both men breathed out in surprise and Pierce tipped his eyes up to where Amon was hunched over behind him. The briefest of pauses and Pierce said in a rush, “Hell yeah, I’d give that a fuckin’ shot.” His hands brought Quinn closer to him, folding him down so he could tuck his face against Quinn’s shoulder, beard prickling his skin. “Very kinky, Quinn. You’ve done this before?”

Quinn shook his head as he felt Amon prod gently at him, testing.

“Well then, I’m flattered you’d choose to embark upon this adventure with us,” he said seriously.

It was Amon’s turn to laugh. There was a big, startled guffaw as he bent over, clenching one hand onto Quinn’s asscheek and letting his head fall onto the small of his back.

Quinn frowned at the view he had of his bed’s headboard. “I’m glad you two are finding this so— ah! —so amusing.” He gasped and Pierce made a small, curious sound as Amon slid another Force object into him and widened it as far as it would go. He dug his teeth into Pierce’s shoulder and mumbled around the mouthful of flesh. “Gods,  _ please, _ would you…” 

“Oh, lighten up, Quinn. I haven’t had this much fun since that last time we took leave in Kaas City.”

“What happened in Kaas City?” Pierce asked, sounding a little too interested.

_ “Nothing _ happ—” Quinn’s words cut off into a harsh exhalation as Amon rubbed up against him and slowly pushed himself in alongside Pierce.

Pierce just groaned and Amon let out a low, guttural curse.  _ “Jen’Qyâsik...  _ Quinn.”

He felt impossibly stretched out and full, letting out an embarrassing keening noise as Amon leaned forward as far as his body would allow. Two sets of hands clasped around his hips, and everything was still for a moment, just burning and pulsing and the slow trickle of sweat. The actual sensation of it was so damned  _ foreign _ he couldn’t figure out if it was pleasure he was feeling or something else. But the idea of it, that was what was giving him this weird high. 

And then they both started moving. Pierce made short, quick rolls of his hips; Amon dragged nearly all the way out and pushed back in so, so slowly. Quinn moaned, feeling wetness on his cheeks as he screwed his eyes shut and locked his hands around Pierce’s waist to keep himself still. They were hitting something in him together that sent long, spiraling bolts of bliss through his gut and right to his steadily leaking cock. He couldn’t keep a lid on all the breathless cries coming out of him and just helplessly held on and let the two rock into him however they wanted as he rutted against Pierce’s slippery skin.

“How’s that look back there?” Pierce asked as he rubbed small, comforting circles into Quinn’s shoulder.

Quinn felt Amon lean back a little and thumb him apart, long nails pricking into his skin. Quinn bristled a tiny bit at the examination but quickly relented. Amon sighed as he pulled out, paused, and languidly pushed back in. “Now  _ I  _ wish I had a recording.”

“I told you.”

“Captain, is a hi-res holorecorder within our budget?”

Unwanted figures and sums flashed through his head at the question and he had to make an effort to force them away. He groaned, “I hate when you do that.”

Amon hummed and lurched forward suddenly, palms flat against the bed on either side of Quinn. “Good thing you like me so much then,” he panted out. Quinn didn’t think it possible, but his strokes went even deeper. Amon scraped his teeth down Quinn’s back and then surged forward, Quinn’s name and the names of his strange, Sith gods on his lips as he came, deep and wet and hot. The squelch as he pulled away was slightly revolting, but no one seemed to mind. The only comment was Pierce muttering a gratified-sounding “One down.”

“Flip him around, Pierce.”

“Yeah.”

Hands lifted Quinn up and off Pierce, and he scrunched his face at the feeling of what was dripping out of him. But he accepted the manhandling and sighed when he was easily pressed down onto Pierce’s cock again, facing the other way now and tensing his thighs to help rock into the thrusts.

Lord Amon knelt in front of him, skin flushed an even darker red than normal and his usually silky hair clumped with sweat. He leaned in and curled a hand around his face, kissing Quinn’s lips and smoothing his own sweaty hair back off his forehead. “How do you feel?”

_ Exhausted. Desecrated. On fire. Dizzy. Lost. Drowned. _ He smiled a little. “Fantastic.” It wasn’t a lie.

“That’s my boy.” It was ridiculous, but the words warmed him. He tilted his head back as Amon kissed down his jaw and tongued over the tendons taut in his neck. “Let’s finish this up, hm?” And wonderful as this all was, that sounded even better. 

Amon slid down his body and gently took his cock into his mouth. Soft suction and short gentle strokes of his tongue under the head had Quinn shaking and tensing very quickly; he’d been on the edge for a very long time. Kept right on the cusp of tipping over but never actually being allowed to fall. But now he could, and the blessed, complete relief crashed through him in staggering waves. His hands dug into Amon’s shoulders, thighs trembled with the strain he was putting them through, balls pulled up tight against him, and he just screamed hoarsely and inarticulately. He could feel the muscles in his ass rippling and contracting around Pierce and felt him quickly follow with a groan, hands pulling desperately at his hips and adding to the mess that was already inside him. Quinn shuddered through his aftershocks and the long, slow pulls Amon was still making with his tongue and lips. 

Until it was over. Half of him still wanted more, and the other half clamored for rest and to just  _ stop. _

Amon released him and Pierce slid him up, freeing him from the connection and laying him back against Pierce’s heaving chest. Quinn grimaced again at the feeling of excessive fluids all over, but was too tired to do anything but bonelessly sink into Pierce and mentally shrug when he slipped down his sweaty side to land on the bed.

Pierce blew out a long, shaky breath. “Welcome home.”

Quinn just pressed his face into Pierce’s arm where it wrapped around him and nodded. Too tired to do much else.

Amon crawled forward and pushed moodily at the same arm. “Move over would you? I didn’t think humans got this big.”

“You should meet more of us then. And get the captain a bigger bed,” Pierce answered, but he obliged and scooted over, dragging Quinn with him. Quinn let himself be dragged; hazy and framed on either side by his lieutenant and lord.

Amon stuck an arm under his head and blew a breath out at the ceiling, eyes half-lidded and looking more peaceful than he ever did. “So, what do you think, Pierce? Think he’s made a good enough apology?”

“I dunno if I’m convinced,” he said from somewhere above Quinn, sounding contemplative. “We could always drop him off in the middle of Hoth for a while. Freezing his knob off and going snowblind will probably put him off this sort of nonsense better than we could.”

Quinn closed his eyes. “Don’t even joke about that awful planet.”

“Come on, he’s got his uses, don’t you think?” Amon said.

Pierce yawned and stretched. “Yeah, I suppose so. You’re lucky you’re the best cook on the ship, Quinn.” Quinn huffed a short laugh. Unfunny; he had far more and better uses than that, but again, this wasn’t a time for arguing. “Vette’s a sweet kid but, ugh. Never understood how anyone can eat Twi’lek food. ...How come you never ask me to help out in the galley, Quinn?” Pierce asked.

“Because unlike you, Lieutenant, the droid doesn’t question every little thing I ask it to do.”

“...Alright, that’s a fair point.”

Amon reached over and lightly slapped Pierce’s thigh, calling an end to the exchange. Pierce mumbled a sarcastic “Ow.”

“New mission, crew: take a turn in the refresher and get some sleep.” Quinn thought that sounded like the greatest set of orders he’d ever heard and the hum of assent from Pierce said he felt about the same way. “We have a darth that needs rescuing, and one that needs killing and I want you both ready.”

Pierce managed a mostly enthusiastic ‘Aye aye,’ and Quinn stretched out his legs and added his own ‘Of course, my lord.’

Amon sat up and leaned down over both of them, pressing a quick kiss to each forehead with a wry smile.

“Let’s go, team.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re curious and don’t wanna run all the way to Wookieepedia, “Jen’Qyâsik” means Dark Force in the Sith language. Similar to Quinn saying “gods” occasionally when stressed, it seemed like something he’d been raised with and it got integrated into his vocabulary rather than actually being a serious follower.


End file.
